


Around The World

by ms_mandanicole



Category: WWE, wrestling - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Prostitution, WWE - Freeform, Wrestling, businessman jericho, prostitute ambrose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_mandanicole/pseuds/ms_mandanicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...So, what package do you want?"<br/>"Uh, I was told to ask for the best." <i>Damnit, Chris. You're a fucking idiot. You're a PR and you can't even talk to *this* guy?</i><br/>"Then that's what you'll get." The man says with a smirk. "Mind if I get inside?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Around The World

The blond takes a quiet breath as he turns the corner, one hand adjusting his silver and blue tie as the other pulls up to a scummy corner in a scummy part of town. His tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip as his hand digs in his pocket, the outline of his leather wallet cool against his sweaty palms. He doesn't know why he's so nervous, he just is.  
After a minute, a tap is heard on the glass of the passenger window. He pushes the button on his console and the tinted window slides down effortlessly, revealing the toned figure of a younger man, not older than thirty. His dirty blond curls are pushed back just enough to show his face, but it doesn't take away from the sultry vibe that the king man gives off to the businessman as he leans on the car door, a smirk on his lips as he pulls a cigarette from them.  
"Are you Chris?" His accent is harsh, and he speaks fast.  
Chris nods, his azure blue eyes wandering over what parts of the man's body he can see. A white wifebeater and fitted ripped jeans cling to his muscular form, and his gray-blue eyes meet Chris's, causing another smirk to appear on his lips.  
"What're you nervous about? Never hired a prostitute before?"  
"Well, uh-"  
"I'm going to take that as a no. So, what package do you want?"  
"Uh, I was told to ask for the best." _Damnit, Chris. You're a fucking idiot. You're a PR and you can't even talk to *this* guy?_  
"Then that's what you'll get." The man says with a smirk. "Mind if I get inside?"  
 ********  
"AJ, tell Jericho to meet me in my office. Stat." The heavily tattooed man speaks into the phone with an even tone as he sits behind his broad desk. His secretary replies with a bubbly "yes sir", and within two minutes his PR Rep (and best friend) pokes his blond head through his doors, a smile on his face.  
"You wanted to see me, Punk?" Chris asks, calling his business partner by his nickname as he adjusts a button on his gray suit jacket, re buttoning it as he closes the doors behind him.  
"Chris, Chris, Chris. What am I ever going to do with you? Sit down." Punk says with a smile, and Jericho gladly takes a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs across from Punk.  
"Now, Chris, you've been one of my business partners and best friends for years. We grew this company from the bottom up; we've seen each other change a lot, too. You've lost some weight, I've gotten more tattoos," Punk says with a chuckle, making Chris smile, "but I've seem something else change in you, Chris. Ever since your divorce from Jessica, you've been acting very... Uptight."  
"That's understandable."  
"It's very understandable. Then again, I can't have someone be uptight and be my Public Relations representative."  
Chris's mouth goes dry at that statement. _Am I getting... Fired?_  
"... Don't look at me like you're getting fired, Chris! Am I that much of an asshole?... Don't answer that." Punk chuckles, scribbling an address on a piece of paper then handing it to Chris, who looks relieved. "Now I'm going to be blunt about this: you need to get laid."  
Chris almost laughs at that statement, but he bites his tongue and dissolves into silent chuckles as he looks at the address: it's one for a street corner in the poverty-ridden part of the city, an area that he only goes to for his job.  
"You can't be serious."  
"I am completely serious."  
"You hired me a prostitute?"  
"... Yeah."  
"You're unbelievable."  
"You'll like him."  
At that, Chris's smile and joking demeanor fade. He tightens is tie a bit, sitting up in the chair.  
"'Him'?"  
"Chris, I know you probably better than yourself. I know you and Jessica didnt break up over nothing.  
"I mean- uh, what?"  
"Tonight, 10PM. Go to that address. Ask for "the best". And maybe take him back to your apartment. Lord knows you could use the company, plus your Porshe is too small for him to work his magic."  
"... How do you know all of this?"  
With that, Punk just winks a hazel eye at Chris. "That's my secret for me to know, and for you to find out."  
 ********  
Chris nods at the man's question, unlocking the door for him. Once inside, he locks the door again, throwing the Porshe into reverse.  
"Nice car you've got here. Judging by this and that fancy expensive suit, you're pretty loaded, aren't you?"  
At that, Chris cocks a bright-white smile at the man. "Yep. Pretty damn loaded."  
The man reaches into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette. He flicks his lighter once, twice, but it doesn't light.  
"Fuck. Man, do you have a BIC?" He asks, looking at Chris as he begins to drive in the direction of his apartment, which is in the nicest part of town. Shockingly, it's only a fifteen minute drive.  
"Middle console."  
"You smoke?"  
"Nasty habit I haven't kicked since college." Chris explains as he smells the familiar scent of a lit cigarette. Turning his head, he makes a little noises at the sight of the man next to him.  
Smoke is curling out of his lips, and his wifebeater is pulled up just enough to show off the hint of a v-line dancing off of the man's hips that disappears under the top of his hip-hugging jeans.  
"Like what you see?"  
The snarky voice breaks Chris out of his daydream as he crosses over a bridge, crossing into the nicest section of the city.  
"Maybe. What's your name?"  
"I go by Dean. Dean Ambrose."  
Chris makes a little noise of approval as he turns a corner onto an illuminated street.  
The rest of the ride is silent except when one of them catches the other staring at them. Twice Chris has felt Dean undressing him with his eyes, making the back of Chris's neck turn a deep red.  
Chris parks the car in the lot then he and Dean walk to the outside elevator. Chris is thankful the darkness is covering their two bodies, since he thinks he would die if any of his "neighbors" saw him with a male prostitute. When the doors close on them, Dean smirks and walks over to Chris. Chris bites his lip as Dean's lips ghost over his neck and as one of Dean's calloused hands runs over his chest, up to his tie to undo it. "You're one of my better looking customers, Chris. Since you got the best, I gotta ask: do you want me to be on my back tonight for you, screaming your name? Or would you rather have me on top of you, pounding into you until you can't take it any more and you explode?" Dean whispers in Chris's ear seductively, his crotch rubbing against Chris's as he speaks.  
With a growl, Chris turns and slams Dean against one of the sides of the elevator, a dominant smirk on his face. "Now, I may be nervous, but don't you doubt that tonight my cock will be in that dirty little mouth of yours, Dean." Chris growls, biting Dean's jaw hard enough to make him gasp.  
"Fuck, yes. Ok." Dean practically moans, rubbing up against Chris again.  
Before Chris can get even more turned on, the doors slide open to the pristine hall of floor 10. Chris manages to pull away from Dean, leading him into the hall with a crook of his finger. There are only two apartments on the floor, one across from each other.  
Chris and Dean enter Chris's apartment, and Chris's motions sensor illuminates the apartment. Reaching over to a small switch by the door, Chris dims the lights down low, making both of them smirk.  
Dean leans against the door, and Jericho hovers above him. The calloused fingers of Dean's hand work Chris's blue suit shirt open halfway, exposing his muscular chest to the younger man.  
Chris smirks, leaning in the press a soft, almost tender kiss to Dean's lips. It seems to shock Ambrose, because he stiffens up for a second before relaxing into the kiss. Once Chris pulls away with a chuckle, Dean admits that he "hasn't been kissed like that in a while."  
"Really?"  
"Yeah. I'm a fucking prostitute, I'm not exactly looking for someone to date." Dean says, moving to the couch and sitting down, his legs partially spread. When Chris's eyes trail down Dean's body to his crotch, Dean smirks, his hand moving over his growing erection to rub it.  
"Move that goddamn hand away from your crotch or so help me god I will not get you off tonight." Chris threatens, moving into the kitchen to his fridge. Dean smirks at the dominance Chris exudes, reminding him that this won't be any ordinary night.  
"Water?" Chris offers, and Dean shakes his head no. He stands up, moving to the kitchen. Chris turns to see Dean walking towards him and he chuckles, moving quickly to pin Dean against the counter. Dean gasps as their crotches rub together hard, but is soon distracted by Chris's _goddamn fucking good_ mouth on his, kissing him hungrily and violently as Chris's hands fumble with Dean's belt.  
The belt hits the floor with a 'clang', and Chris's hands fly to the cupboard above Dean's head for better leverage as he grinds hard against the man, making them both gasp in pleasure at the wonderful friction.  
"Gonna make you... Scream my fucking name." Chris growls in the kiss, his hands quickly leaving the cupboard so Dean can unbutton and remove Chris's shirt, then he strips of his own.  
"Y-yeah." Dean moans in the kiss. None of this passion is the usual acting by Ambrose. Tonight, he's actually feeling hot and heavy, his erect cock aching for release.  
"Call me 'Sir'." Chris demands, biting Dean's bottom lip hard before he breaks off of Dean. Both of them are sweaty, hard messes. Dean is leaning against the counter, trying to regain his breath while Chris runs his hand through his now-mussed hair, thinking of what to do next.  
"Sorry, I've just always wanted to do that..." Chris voice runs off in embarrassment.  
"I understand, Sir." Dean says, almost shyly, as he straightens up and wipes the sweat from his brow.  
Chris smirks at the nickname, then points at the spiral staircase at the end of the living room that leads to a loft-like second floor. "Bedroom's up there. You've got three minutes to wash up in the bathroom up there, and I'd better find your tight little ass planted on my bed once I get up there." Chris growls, walking up to Dean to tug hard on a curl of his hair.  
All Dean can do is give a breathless smile, his libido pumping fast because of all of this. "Yes, Sir"  
 ********  
The three minutes pass quickly for Dean. After splashing some cool water on his face and washing his hands, Dean makes his way out of the bathroom and looks around the upper floor of the ridiculously expensive apartment. Next to Chris's California King sized bed is a picture in a simple black frame. Dean picks up the picture, studying it. It's Chris, surrounded by three kids: a boy and two younger girls, obviously twins. _Kids_. With a soft smile, Dean puts the picture down, a little sigh leaving his lips as he lays the picture down so it's facing the table.  
 _So the guy was married... Probably realized he was gay and the wife wanted to get away... Picture looks old. He probably hasn't seen his kids in a while._  
Dean hears footsteps on the stairs and smiles. He sits on the edge of the bed, the tent in his jeans obvious as he spreads his legs just enough for Chris when he finally appears.  
"Hey, you." Chris says, walking over to Dean casually. He's stripped of his business slacks and changed into a pair of black workout pants. Chris slips in between Dean's open legs, his hands firm on the man's shoulders. Leaning down, he bites down on Dean's bottom lip again, suckling it firmly as he feels Dean reach up and pinch one of his nipples. A little growl leaves Chris's mouth as his dominance kicks back in, and he pulls away. "No." He takes a step away from Dean, and Dean actually whines at the loss of Chris.  
"Up. Pants off, slowly. Then I want you face down on the bed." Chris demands, his azure eyes piercing Dean.  
"If you insist, Sir." Dean says, stretching his arms over his head casually, flexing his muscles slightly, just to tease. He can hear another growl leaves Chris's throat, and he loves it. Slowly, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, letting them slide off of his hips slowly to reveal a pair of bright red, silk boxer-briefs. Chris feels all of the blood in his body rush straight to his crotch, and he blushes at the sight.  
"Your friend, Punk... Told me what you liked, Sir." Dean says as he crawls on the bed, resting his face on the pillows and his stomach on the cool sheets. He pops his ass in the air, shaking it a little to tease Chris even more. "C'mon, Sir. Dominate me. Make me scream."  
"Stupid attractive bastard. Teasing me like that. Damn right I'll make you scream like the little slut you are." Chris says, getting behind Dean on the bed. He pulls the boxer briefs off and lets them fall to the ground when he tosses them, revealing Dean's ass.  
Chris palms one of the globes before smacking it hard, smiling at the sound and the red mark that forms. He smacks it again, reveling at the sound. He leans in, nipping at one of the reddened cheeks. The yelp that leaves Dean's mouth makes him chuckle, and he parts the two cheeks with his hand, then leans in and licks at Dean's puckered hole slowly. The moan that escapes Dean is, to Chris, positively pornographic, and Chris sighs against Dean's hole, making Dean moan even louder.  
Chris pulls away, his tone dominant again. "On your back." Dean quickly obeys, his face flushed as he looks up at Chris. His cock is dripping with precum, erect and curved a bit to the right. Chris takes Dean's member in his hand, squeezing the head gently. Dean is thick, and has a good length to him, closer to seven inches than six. His pubes are shaved off, leaving him clean. Chris leans down, kissing the leaking head before letting go of Dean's cock. He licks a bead of precum off of his lips, and Dean bites on his bottom lip at the sight.  
"That was hot, Sir." He mumbles, a blush on his cheeks. After years of doing this job and experiencing almost everything during sex, the sight of this man leaning down then licking Dean's precum off of his lips was one of the hottest things that he ever saw.  
"Good." Chris says with a smile, quickly stripping of his pants and boxers, dropping them to the ground. Dean's gray-blue eyes study Chris before he parts Dean's legs and lays on top of him. Chris was almost as big as Dean, though not as thick. Trimmed blond pubes cradled Chris's cock, and a happy trail was evident on his toned body. But Dean now knew to keep his hands to himself, so he touched Chris all over with his eyes... Until Chris's cock slid over his own.  
Both men moaned, and they slowly started to rock against each other. One hand was buried in Dean's hair, and Chris's other hand went down to hold both of their cocks, stroking them as they started to rock faster.  
"Let me help, Sir." Dean breathed against Chris's lips, his hand wrapping around Chris's, fingers linking as they stroked together. Labored breaths left their mouths, dancing between their lips. Chris occasionally pressed kisses to Dean's mouth, and Dean hungrily returned them. After a few minutes of this, little curses left their mouths as they both felt themselves getting closer.  
"Beg." Chris commanded, and Dean knew exactly what to beg for.  
"Please fuck me. Bend me over this bed right now and fuck me senseless. Make me scream and wake your neighbors. Take me, please. I need you, Sir." He says, finishing his sentence with a whine.  
Chris doesn't object to any of that, and he quickly pulls away from Dean. Still holding him by his hair, he manhandles Dean off the bed and bends him over it. He opens the top drawer on the dresser next to them and pulls out a little bottle of KY Jelly ("You'll need it" Punk insisted). Chris squirts some on two fingers, then parts Dean's cheeks again. Checking to make sure Dean won't try and move, Chris slips the two fingers in, and almost cums on the spot at the noise Dean makes. "Holy fuck." They both whisper, and it takes all of Dean's willpower not to thrust against Chris fingers. He can't remember the last time he was prepped before being fucked, especially with lube that wasn't spit. Chris wiggles his fingers, scissoring them and brushing against Dean's prostate. Dean bites his bottom lip, restraining a shout. He rocks against Chris's fingers a little bit, and Chris leans down and presses a kiss against Dean's shoulder.  
"Shh..."  
He stretches him a little more, then Chris pulls out. He squirts some of the lube on his cock, massaging it all over before pressing the head to Dean's hole. "Are you ready?" He asks, leaning back down to press more kisses to Dean's shoulder, paying special attention to a scar that runs down it.  
"Y-yes, Sir."  
Chris nods, pushing into Dean slowly until he's buried to the hilt. His hand wraps around Dean's leaking cock, stroking it slowly, in time with his first few strokes. Within a few minutes, Chris is slamming into Dean's prostate wildly, his strokes matching the thrusts, and he doesn't even care that Dean is screaming and has probably woken up half the building.  
"Scream louder!"  
"AH! SIR, SIR PLEASE!"  
"My name!"  
"S-CHRIS! CHRIS PLEASE!"  
"FUCK, DEAN!"  
"CHRIS!"  
Dean cums hard, shooting onto the bedsheets and onto Chris's hand a bit. Chris's strokes milk him through his orgasm, and a second or two later Chris is right behind him, cumming hard inside Dean. He pumps himself roughly, cum dripping out of Dean's hole and running down the back of his leg. Dean whines at the sensation, turning his head to the side to catch Chris's lips in a soft kiss before either of them have properly calmed down.  
The kiss is sloppy, but evens out after the two calm down. Chris pulls away after a few minutes, resting his forehead against Dean's. He pulls out slowly, then manages to pull his sweaty body away from Dean's.  
"Lay down." He commands softly, and Dean doesn't disobey. He flops onto the bed, the cool sheets helping him calm down. Chris goes into the bathroom, washes up, then comes back with a wet towel. He cleans Dean off gently, then wipes most of the cum off of the bedsheets.  
"I should be getting back." Dean says quietly, sitting up when Chris comes back after tossing the towel in the hamper.  
"No. You're staying here tonight." Chris says softly, pulling down the bed. "I'm too tired to drive you back."  
"I can walk."  
"Dean."  
The tone Chris uses makes Dean blink. _Does he... Care?_  
Chris smiles, motioning to the pulled down covers. Dean crawls under slowly, Chris joining him.  
"Sleep." Chris whispers, pressing a soft kiss to Dean's lips.  
And that's exactly what Dean does, curling into Chris with a smile on his face. Chris joins him soon after, his arms wrapped around Dean.


End file.
